


Nightmares

by IPutOnMyHeadphonesWalking



Series: Rusted [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst is my child, Cause I felt like it, Could have Triggers, Flashblacks, Heavy Angst, I don't know, I still read things that trigger me so im not the best person to ask, Nightmares, PTSD, Sequel to Rusted, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tony-centric, What Have I Done, duh - Freeform, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 22:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18600637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IPutOnMyHeadphonesWalking/pseuds/IPutOnMyHeadphonesWalking
Summary: A look into the sleep pattern of a struggling Tony Stark.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a sequel to Rusted but can be read on its own. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

For Tony Stark, sleep is hell.

Sleep was something he used to take advantage of. He would skip out on sleep for any activity that sounded more appealing. At those times though, it was different. He didn't skip out on sleep because he hated it, he just found it a nuisance. Why sleep when you could do so many other things. There was so much to be accomplished in the hours that were wasted sleeping.

If he could talk to his past self, he would tell himself to freaking sleep, because he wasn't going to get much of that in the future.

Nowadays, Tony Stark avoided sleep at all costs. He did things to distract himself, to keep himself awake. Most of the time he did so in his lab, tinkering away early into the morning.

This little habit of his annoyed the other residents in the tower to no end. Bruce looked like he would pass out every time he found out how little his friend had slept, almost immediately ushering him to go to sleep. Pepper had grown used to it over the years, but he could still see the annoyance and concern in her eyes as she brought him coffee before important meetings.

Whenever the other Avengers came to stay, they were usually confused or concerned for the man, seeing the dark circles under his eyes. They never did or said anything though. They knew not to speak to him about the subject, learning that it was a sore spot for him.

They didn't know how much it hurt him. They didn't know why he didn't sleep. They didn't know about the goddamn nightmares.

Because Tony chose not to tell them.

How could he tell them? How freaking embarrassing would that be?

'Hey guys! Did you know that I, a grown man, have nightmares and scream in my sleep?'

Yeah, no.

He had tried to fix them. He did stupid meditations, but those were just plain dumb. He took melatonin, but that didn't get rid of the nightmares. He even tried reading before bed, but it didn't do anything.

So he had taken precautions. He soundproofed his room to make sure no screams escaped his chamber of hell, for the times that he did eventually have to sleep. And for the times he was awake, he had the best speakers in his lab, just so he could blast AC/DC late into the night. He had bitter coffee at the ready for nights when his body tried to betray him and force sleep upon him.

In short, Tony had this sleep crap down.

Okay, maybe that was inaccurate, considering what had happened last night.

He had woken from another stupid nightmare, covered in sweat. It had been about that fucking nuke. He had been there again, flying towards the wormhole, nuke in hand. He felt the hopelessness as he saw the 'call failed' icon flash in front of him. He felt the cold pressure of space push into him. He felt utterly useless as he fell down to Earth in an inoperative suit.

He lay back down blocking out the sound of Jarvis as he tried to help his creator.

It had felt so real.

He closed his eyes, only to see more realistic images than the last.

Nope.

He shot out of bed, legs twisting in the sheets as he stumbled forward, and out the door. He made his way to the kitchen, ready to make himself another coffee.

Yep, he was fucking fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sorry. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated. 
> 
> I hope you have a fan-FREAKING-tastic day.


End file.
